


Bleed Together

by Safiyabat



Series: SPN Season 11 Episode Tags [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/pseuds/Safiyabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 11.10, "Devil in the Details," Dean and Sam retreat to the bunker.  Sam experiences some self-doubt thanks to Lucifer's trip down memory lane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleed Together

**Author's Note:**

> This story does not contain rape, but does mention it briefly.

Sam settled into the seat beside his brother. He hurt; everything hurt. Everything was supposed to hurt. He’d just gotten walloped by Lucifer, _again._ At least he’d _just_ taken a beating. Dean hadn’t come in to find Sam flayed alive, or pinned down underneath the archangel while Lucifer took what he wanted. Or both – Lucifer could be greedy sometimes.

 

So he hurt, but he was alive, and that was more than he expected. In a lot of ways, it was more than he wanted. Crowley and Rowena had betrayed them – betrayed _him-_ again. Sam had been willing to talk to Lucifer, see if he was willing to offer some insights on how to defeat Amara, but he should have known better. He just should have.   Wrapping his broken ribs and pissing blood for a day or two, that wasn’t a big deal in the life of a Winchester.

 

The guilt and shame? Those weren’t exactly new either.

 

Dean didn’t say anything as they drove back to the bunker. He was probably mad. He was usually mad at Sam, and why not? Sam was the one who screwed up. Sam was the one who unleashed the Darkness in the first place, who made Dean take on the Mark of Cain, who killed Kevin, who hadn’t completed the trials. Who’d screwed up his own resurrection so badly that he’d come back without a soul and hadn’t even noticed. Who’d started the Apocalypse. Who’d gotten himself hooked on the kind of filth that had made him unclean his whole life. Who’d made Dean go to Hell in the first place. Who’d sucked the life out of Dean’s life since the day he’d been born.

 

They pulled into the garage at the bunker and staggered into the living area. “I kind of want to go scrub until I bleed,” Dean told him finally.

 

Sam startled. He should have asked Dean what happened, not gotten caught up in Lucifer. Christ, what was wrong with him? “You okay, man?”

 

“Yeah. Fine, now. Did you know that ‘smiting sickness’ was a thing?” Dean waved a hand at him. “I know. Sounds made up. I’m still not convinced that it’s not. Had a hot dog before all the smiting; that cart didn’t look all that sanitary. What about you?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Sam, I heard you yell. I saw you in there. You sure didn’t seem ‘fine’ then.”

 

Sam let out a long, slow breath. “He tried to convince me to let him ride me again. And it wasn’t going to happen. It would have been just as bad as The Darkness, so – no.”

 

“And he decided to torture you into it?” Dean crossed his arms across his chest.

 

“Not at first.” Sam turned his face away. “He was… well.   He took me on a trip down memory lane first.” He sat down, too tired and hurt to stand for much longer.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “’A trip down memory lane.’ What exactly was that supposed to accomplish, huh? Bringing up the past hasn’t ever gotten you to do what the angels wanted before.”

 

Sam huffed out a little laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not convinced that angels are capable of learning, you know?” How many times had Cas done the exact same thing, gotten the exact same results, and been surprised by it? “I think that was his point, though. I’m not the same guy who stood up to him all those years ago.”

 

Dean snorted. “Of course you are, Sammy.” He patted Sam on the back, sending waves of pain through Sam as he connected with a broken rib.

 

“I’m not, though. I mean yeah, sure, I have the same name. But I mean, I don’t… I don’t _fight_ anymore.” He took as deep a breath as he could.

 

“Dude. You killed two werewolves with one hand strapped down.” Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You saved all those people who had the zombie virus because you fought for a cure, even though you had the virus. You could have given in and just let it take you, or you could have taken yourself out. But you didn’t. You kept fighting, and you fucking won.”

 

Sam shook his head. He had to make Dean understand. “He showed me Amelia.”

 

Dean stiffened. “Can we not dredge that stuff up, please?”

 

Sam sighed. “He pointed out that it was the worst thing I’d ever done. And maybe, yeah. I don’t know that he’s a great judge. But Dean – remember with that faith healer? Or with Tessa in the hospital – oh, but you don’t remember that.” He bit his lip as Dean’s face went still. “Anyway. It went from, ‘It doesn’t matter if he’s in heaven, he needs to be alive, because alive is better,’ to, ‘He’s in heaven, and heaven means he’s at peace. I just… I didn’t…” Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. “It was like, as far as I knew, as far as I had any way of knowing, you had everything I could have hoped for. There was nothing to fight for.”

 

Dean sat down beside him. His face was sour, like he’d been sucking on a lemon. “But you fought to bring me back from being a demon.”

 

Sam side-eyed him. “Well yeah. That’s different. That’s not at peace.”

 

Then Dean gave a deep sigh. “You’re still fighting, Sam. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still pissed. I’m probably always going to be pissed. Just like you’re always going to be pissed about Gadreel.

 

“But you’re still fighting; your priorities have just changed a little bit. That’s okay, Sammy.” He smiled a little and put a hand on Sam’s knee. “You’re older. We’ve both seen a lot more. We know that there are fates worse than death. We’ve both been there, done that, got the scars to prove it.” He grinned a little wider, a little more of a genuine expression, and Sam relaxed a little. “Don’t let that feathery son of a bitch mess with you like that. “You’re still fighting. That reaper chick might have her eyes on us but as long as we’re both here, we’re still fighting.” He held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s get those ribs wrapped.”


End file.
